


jumpin jumpin

by CoraClavia



Category: Castle
Genre: Baby Beckett, Club Fic, F/M, Scruffy Castle, Season 1, it was totally inevitable
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-05
Updated: 2016-01-04
Packaged: 2018-05-11 20:27:55
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 5,955
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5640868
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CoraClavia/pseuds/CoraClavia
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It's only the second time he's seen her legs and he's absolutely certain he wants to see more of them.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

He's spent the past two months following Kate Beckett around, but he is two hundred percent unprepared for the night they have to go undercover to a nightclub.

She steps out of the precinct bathroom and he stares.

"Whoa."

It's only the second time he's seen her legs and he's absolutely certain he wants to see more of them.

She's glaring at him with her normal irritated expression - it's sexy - but now it's framed under darker lashes, the heavier sweep of eyeliner making her eyes look huge. And that tiny, tiny little skirt. It's miniscule. It's tiny and skintight and glittering.

She turns away and the air leaves his lungs. Because her ass - her ass is perfect, of course, he expected nothing less. But her top. That deep purple, silky fabric, so gorgeous on her pale skin, and her back is _bare_. From the base of her neck to the bottom of her spine. She's all long, slim lines, the curve of her ass, the endless legs in those indecent, strappy silver shoes.

"You coming, Castle?"

Ignoring the bristling anger in her voice, he hurries to follow. He trails several steps behind and doesn't even try to hide the fact that his eyes are firmly glued to her ass.

* * *

It's been a while since he's gone clubbing with anyone, let alone this feral, sexy creature.

His mind can't quite grasp it. Beckett is a cop, straightlaced, buttoned-down quite literally, all short hair and high collars and strict rules. And suddenly this lithe, gorgeous woman is standing in her place, half-naked and not wearing any kind of a bra that he can detect and moving against his body like an animal. He's getting a better picture of her, of whatever kind of wild child she was once, and it's taking all his scant self-control to keep his hands off the more inappropriate parts of her. As it is, they're resting gingerly on her hips, inches away from a sexual harassment lawsuit as she sways rhythmically against him to the throbbing beat of the music.

She presses up closer against him, ostensibly to look over his shoulder for whatever bad guy they're chasing. He's forgotten. He's forgotten everything except the heat of her body on his, because his hands are slipping over her ass and his blood is quickly pooling in one very specific spot that isn't his brain.

Her fingers curl around the back of his neck, twining slowly through the short hairs at his nape, and he can't form coherent thoughts that don't involve her naked and up against the wall of his shower. Because she's getting sweaty, and as he drags one hand over the slick skin of her back, he's seriously considering the possibility she's getting into this as much as he is.

"I don't see him," she says (gasps) into his ear, and his eyes roll back. "Hang on -"

She twists or moves or something, and he has to bite back a groan. Because this maybe started with him leering but now she's flat-out grinding on his leg and this is getting _serious_.

"He's - wait, that - is that -" she lets out this little growl of frustration that does nothing to help him control his lower body. "He's in the back. Where they're - oh, the bouncer -"

If she doesn't stop _moving_ -

" _Castle,_ " she hisses into his ear. "We need to get thrown out."

_What?_

"The guy. He's back there, we need to get thrown out and we'll see him."

"Oh - okay -" Does she realize exactly what she's asking him to -

He slides his hands over her back and his whole body tightens. _Damn_.

But she huffs, her breath hot against his skin as she glares at him. "Come _on,"_ she grumbles. "Do you even know how to get thrown out of a club?"

He grits his teeth. She wants to get thrown out?

He'll _get_ them thrown out.


	2. Chapter 2

Before she can throw him one more of those maddening little looks, he drags her back, pushes her up against the nearest wall, and kisses her _hard_.

He really half-thought she might slap him, but Beckett just _goes_ , grabbing his face, sucking his tongue into her mouth. His knee slides between her legs and she sinks down onto it, the pressure sudden and hot and unbearable, throbbing in his groin.

He'd stop if she wanted him to. He would. She's perfectly capable of maiming him. But she's not. She's letting him, she's pushing him further and further and _oh God_ she's getting off on this just as much as he is.

The realization that angry, uptight Kate Beckett _wants_ him sizzles through his veins, blurring his vision, rocking his hips into hers without his permission. That gets a little gasp from her, her fingers flexing at his neck, and he can feel her leg coming up against his, pulling him even closer against her body. He palms her breast through the flimsy material of her top, feeling her nipple puckered tight under his touch. She arches against him, biting his lip. _Ow_.

He retaliates, pushing his tongue into her mouth, invading, fierce and dominant. It draws a low keening noise from the back of her throat, something helpless and involuntary, and the thought of her so far past her rigid control sends an arrow of desire through his veins, settling between his legs and there's no _way_ she can't feel him pressing against her. It's a thousand times hotter than that night he wrote the first sex scene for Nikki Heat, the night he let himself stop and think about Kate and his mind took it too far, way too far, and he ended up in the shower, stroking himself off, imagining her mouth around him as he spurted all over the wall.

She wraps her long, long legs around him and he groans. Shit. Shit. " _Beckett,_ " he chokes out. If she doesn't slow down, he's going to -

She sucks on his tongue before pulling back just enough to whisper into his ear. "Move."

"What?" He actually cannot think.

" _Grind on me_ , Castle."

He does.

He pushes into her, catching the long slow rhythm of her body with his, the appearance of something he wants so desperately to be doing, because her body fits against his perfectly and he's wanted her since the moment they met.

Beckett moans as he sucks on her throat, worrying her collarbone with his teeth. He can feel the hectic, thready pulse under his lips, the blood surging under her skin. Her voice catches as he slides his hands over her ass and grips her thighs, pulling her closer against his body.

Where the fuck is the bouncer?

Her legs are clamped around his waist like a vise and she's rolling her body against him with this throaty little moaning sound that belongs in a porno and they're acting like they're having sex and she's so good at this that he's starting to believe it himself.

Her heels dig into his ass and he stops pretending his pants aren't getting increasingly, achingly tight.

* * *

They _finally_ get pushed out the back door of the club and told _Get a room already_ but it's pointless because whoever that guy was is gone. He's gone and Beckett's pissed and Rick is completely, painfully, obviously hard.

He stumbles out into the alley behind her. It hurts to walk. Kate Beckett just enthusiastically dry-humped him in public and he's not entirely sure this isn't some perfect wet dream. The mild drizzle from earlier has deepened into steady rain, and great, just great. Because now that little outfit is plastered to her body and _ohhhhhhh_ yeah she is definitelynot wearing a bra right now.

She eyes him with a venomous look. She's _furious_.

But before he can say anything, she yanks open the back door of the car, grabs him by the arm and _shoves_ him inside.

She climbs in and slams the door shut behind her and sinks onto his lap and _ohhhhhh_ her tongue is back in his mouth and suddenly she's undoing his belt and he might actually die.

"Beck-"

"Shut _up_."

She pushes his hand between her legs and under her flimsy little underwear and fuck fuck _fuck_ she's so wet. He traces a tight little circle over her clit and she bucks into him with a mewling sound, and then suddenly her hot fingers close around his dick and his teeth sink into her neck. It's a cramped space, his world reduced to the rain streaming down the car windows and his heartbeat pounding in his ears and her body.

She finally, _finally_ sinks down onto him, and he grunts, fuck, _fuck_ , feeling the hot tight sheath of her, her inner muscles flexing around him like a fist, and he's absolutely certain this isn't going to last very long.

But she's already close herself; she rides him hard, fast, keening in his ear as she sinks onto him again and again. The tactile sensations are too much, sensory overload, the slick rainy silk of her skin, the rough wet fabric scraping against him. His body is tightening, he's losing control, and just when he can't hold on any longer she lets out a high-pitched moan and breaks apart, shuddering, squeezing around him. He spills into her in long, hot spurts, fisting his hands in her hair, groaning into the sweaty, rain-soaked skin of her neck.

He slumps back against the seat, dazed, his body still humming.

Holy shit.


	3. Chapter 3

It doesn't end up the way he planned it. Not even close.

Rick was thinking maybe they could go back to her place, drink a little wine and strip each others' clothes off. He was looking forward to it.

But she doesn't look at him all the way back to the precinct. Doesn't speak to him. Gives a brief report to the boys and stalks off to change in the bathrooms without a backward glance.

She doesn't speak directly to him for the next hour. And she asks Esposito to give him a ride home.

In his dark, quiet loft, he collapses into his office chair and stares blankly up at the ceiling.

What happened?

* * *

He takes a shower before bed but he can't wash her off.

It's worse now. He's touched himself before, thinking of her, but now it's too real, the vivid memory of her body rolling against his, the scent of her hair, the smell of sweat and rain and sex. The way her fingers dug into his skin. The slow shudder as she fell apart in his lap. The wet, tight heat of her, flexing around him, pulling him deeper and deeper and suddenly he's coming hard, endlessly, almost blindingly intense.

He slumps back against the shower wall, his body drained, and watches blankly as the mess swirls slowly into the drain. It's the most unsatisfying orgasm he's ever had. His body still aches. Because now he knows what it's really like. And it's just enough to make him realize he wants more.

He doesn't just want sex. He wants her.

* * *

Kate Beckett may never admit it, but he's got her at least somewhat figured out. She's embarrassed. She lost control, and she _never_ loses control. So she's pretending it didn't happen.

He's on his absolute best behavior the next day - polite, not pushing. Coffee and pastry on her desk. He's quiet. He doesn't tease or leer at her.

She manages to avoid being alone with him all day. She forsakes her own desk for sitting around Ryan and Esposito's area, constantly talking to them.

Castle volunteers to get everyone lunch, and he sees the relief flash in her eyes when he doesn't ask her to come along. His heart twists hard as he shuffles to the little Chinese place he knows she loves. He doesn't want to push. But wasn't she the one who shoved him into the car and ripped open his pants and -

He's not sure how to tell her _it wasn't a mistake._

Well, maybe he can figure out the words. The question is whether or not she'll listen.

* * *

He leaves for the night before she can ask someone else to drive him home.

* * *

If Kate Beckett won't come to the mountain, the mountain can at least try to come to her, right?

So he decides to go to her apartment that night armed with gourmet cupcakes. She's got a serious sweet tooth, he knows, though she rarely indulges. He goes to Magnolia and stares at the display case for a long moment. He doesn't know what kind of cupcakes she likes.

It's a stupid thing, but he's suddenly seized with a wave of guilt because clearly this is his greatest failure, his lack of attention to detail. He should _know_ this. He should know this kind of thing about a woman by the time she rides him in the back of her police sedan. Kate Beckett is important enough. He should know this about her.

Chocolate's a safe bet, right? He decides to bet on that. A triple chocolate cupcake and a red velvet one. Hopefully she'll like one of them. And hopefully she doesn't think he's trying to pay for sex with sugar.

He almost dumps the box by the time the cab pulls up in front of her building - _seriously_ , _Rick_ \- since when does he get stupid and feeble-minded when it comes to women?

He shifts the box of cupcakes to his left arm and knocks. He's half-worried she might check the peephole and refuse to open the door, but he can't figure out what else to do.

Footsteps. Good. At least she's home. He'd had a painfully melodramatic vision of himself holding cupcakes as he pours out a melancholy plea through the door, finally persuading her to let him inside, and -

The door opens. But it's not Beckett who opens the door.

It's a man.

A tall, grey-haired man, with sculpted features and keen eyes. And in a flash, Rick knows exactly who this is.

Oh no.

He hears her voice from inside. "Dad? Was that the door? Is someone there?"

"Got a visitor, Katie." The man - her _father_ \- looks back at Castle. "Can I help you?"

"I, uh. I'm Castle. Richard Castle. I work with Beckett. With - Kate. I guess you're Beckett too."

Rick feels like an idiot, but her dad just smiles affably, shaking his hand with a firm grip. "Rick Castle? You write books, right? Nice to meet you, son. Please, come in."

Castle obeys, stepping inside, brandishing the box from Magnolia's like a sacred offering, the feeble excuse he was using to come and see her and ask if she's angry at him or if she's ever going to meet his eyes again (and maybe, possibly, interested in having sex again on a more regular basis), but this is her _dad_ and this is just not going to end well at all.

He looks up and she's standing there, wiping her hands on a towel; he can smell something savory coming from the stove.

She cooks?

_Why don't I know things about her?_

Her face is blank. "Castle?"

"Hi." His voice is scratchy. He clears his throat and tries again. "Hi. Sorry, I didn't realize - I should've called -"

He has two Becketts staring at him now and he's not equipped to handle that. Because he's being eyed by a man whose daughter he just fucked in a car last night.

He needs to get out of here.

So, at a loss for what else to do, he holds out the box like an idiot. "I, uh. I got these for you."

Beckett - Kate - reaches for it slowly, her face softening. "Thanks."

There's a soft, awkward moment, in which she stares at the cupcakes and Castle stares at her, and Jim finally clears his throat. "Why don't you stay for dinner? We've got plenty of food. And it'd be great to meet Katie's new work partner."

"Oh, no, I wouldn't want to -"

"Nonsense. You came all the way here. You should join us."

Rick's about to say a polite _No thanks_ when he catches Kate's eye. She's looking at him, and instead of the blank look, she's - smiling? Not quite a full smile, but definitely in that direction. At least he thinks.

When she gives a tiny, microscopic bit of a nod, he gives in.

"Well. Sure. That'd be nice."


	4. Chapter 4

She really _can_ cook.

"This is delicious." He at least remembers not to talk with his mouth full. "Really, really amazing."

"Thanks." She flicks a glance up, and it feels like forever since she's met his eyes but even now she seems - shy?

It's not a word he'd have associated with her. Especially not after last night. It's all absurd, complimenting her chicken and getting that soft response, sitting next to her and her father, as if he were actually part of this little family, when he's still thinking about the way she moans when she comes.

But Jim doesn't seem to be suspicious. "Wonderful dinner, Katie. As usual."

So she cooks for her dad on a regular basis, then?

He's seized with this need to know everything, to maybe just sit down and ask her a thousand questions about stupid things and little things and pointless things and adorable things, and as much as he wants to see her naked he wants this too.

Nothing makes sense.

But he's noticing more. Like how they're drinking lemonade, not wine. At first it's hard to imagine this pleasant, mild-mannered man drowning his sorrows in alcohol, but - the way Jim looks at Kate. Like she's an angel. Like she's the shining star in his life. Like she's all he's got left.

Rick thinks about Alexis and his chest knots.

But he likes Jim Beckett. He does. Jim's friendly, unassuming. He has a natural knack for putting people at ease. Maybe this is what Kate Beckett would look like if she didn't constantly have an expression on her face that said _Castle, I'm going to kill you_.

"So, Katie, you said you had some police thing going on yesterday? We were going to have dinner last night," Jim explains aside to Rick.

She nods. "Uh, yeah. We were looking for a guy. At a club. Didn't get him, though. I thought we could get him by getting thrown out, but by the time we passed the door, he was gone."

"So how exactly did you get thrown out?" asks Jim, innocently curious.

Um.

Well.

She's frozen, he can see, and before Castle realizes what's happening, he's talking. "I did it, actually. I, uh, pretended to be drunk. Picked a fight with a bouncer."

"Wow." Jim chuckles. "I'll bet that was exciting."

"Oh, it was. One of my finest moments in law enforcement."

Jim goes back to his rice, and Castle chances a look up at Kate. Her face is softer. Her eyes are warm.

Her lips move, silently forming the words _Thank you_.

* * *

Castle stubbornly insists on helping Jim clear the table, over Kate's protests that they're both _guests_ and she can do it herself.

It's okay until his hand brushes Kate's as he picks up a plate. He flinches, his eyes flicking back to hers involuntarily. So close. Too close. She's staring at him, her eyes deep, rich, mesmerizing hazel, and for a moment he can't remember why he shouldn't kiss her.

"Katie? You want me to turn the dishwasher on?"

Oh. Right. Her dad.

And other reasons.

She slips past Castle into the kitchen and he stands still for a moment, still wrapped in the delicate scent of her perfume. And the lust that's been churning in his veins since last night is mingling with something softer now, something that snuck in without his permission.

* * *

"Nice of you to bring dessert, Rick."

But Jim pauses, looking over the Magnolia's box, and Castle doesn't underst-

Oh. Right. Two cupcakes. Three people.

He's an idiot.

"I'm so sorry, I didn't realize - I only got two - "

"Not to worry, son. You didn't know I'd be here. We can fix that, no problem."

Jim neatly cuts them all into pieces, and they all get one third of each cupcake. Perfect solution.

Rick notices that while she seems happy enough with red velvet, she licks the chocolate frosting off her fingers with a little more gusto. Okay. Chocolate. Noted.

He wants to lick chocolate frosting off of her.

He clamps down on that thought because her father is still sitting between them. No. Stop. Control it, Rick.

He's made it through dinner and dessert. He can keep it together.

Jim sneaks a quick glance at the clock. "Getting late, Katie. I should be going."

"Thanks for coming, Dad."

He kisses her cheek and offers Rick another firm handshake. "Have a good night, Katie. Rick, nice to meet you. Hope to see you again."

Jim leaves with one last wave.

And then there are two.


	5. Chapter 5

After Jim leaves, there's a long, quiet moment. Neither of them moves.

Castle's not sure what to do. His mind is full, too full, swirling with all the things he _wants_ and he doesn't know how to get from this murky silence to the place he wants to be, a place where last night isn't just some anomaly that will get dimmer and dimmer until it recedes into pure myth.

"Thank you." Her voice is quiet, but unmistakable. He knows what she means.

"I like him. He's a good man."

Her throat ripples as she swallows - he knows she's biting back things she's not comfortable saying - but she just briefly shakes her head, folding her arms over her chest. Defensive. "Why are you here?"

"I came to see you."

Her shoulders slump. "Castle - it's not - I can't - "

Does she really think that? Does she honestly think he assumed he could hand her baked goods and she'd just drop her clothes?

Does she think so little of him?

"Beckett. Kate." Her name is strange on his tongue but he likes it. It makes her look up. "I didn't come here for that." She blinks, her expression still guarded, but she's not stopping him so he blunders on, remembering the desperate, feverish woman who kissed him like she was trying to climb inside of him. She's here somewhere. "I came to talk to you."

She lets out this long breath, like her whole energy is expelled, like she's done fighting. And after all the hours he's spent wanting to get her naked and moaning under him, he's swamped right now with how badly he just wants to _kiss_ her.

"What do you want, Castle?"

"I want you to be able to look at me again."

It's - not exactly what he was going to say. He'd had all these ideas, all these sweeping lines of prose that would certainly send her weak-kneed into his strong arms.

But she stares at him, eyes wide in surprise. Her mouth is half-open, like she was about to protest, and he has to remind himself yet again that he can't kiss her.

"Look. I know that - I've spent a lot of time and energy being kind of a jerk to you. But I've always liked you. A lot. And - what happened last night - " her face gets pink, but she doesn't look away - "I don't want to forget about it. I don't want it to be a mistake. I want you to give me a chance."

Her arms are still folded over her chest, but he can see her resolve crumbling, the stubborn energy dissolving as her shoulders come down and her face relaxes. She's listening.

But he's come to the end of what he's figured out to say. And Rick Castle may not be a genius but he's relatively certain _We could probably fix this by getting naked now_ is not the right way to go.

Kate's progressed to worrying her bottom lip between her teeth, and she really, really can't do things like that if he's still not allowed to kiss her. His body is a hopeless jumble of arousal and warm affection and why won't she just -

"You brought me cupcakes." It sounds like an accusation.

"I did."

"You sat through dinner with my dad."

Uh - "Yes."

She takes a step closer, and another, and warmth is spilling through his veins. "I'm not just a notch in your bedpost, Castle."

"I know." She's close enough to touch. He wants to make a joke about notches in the dashboard instead but in a flash of inspiration he realizes oh, that might defeat the point he's trying to make. "You're not a notch. You're - you're a -"

She's staring at him expectantly, and faced with those big green-gold eyes, he is completely unable to finish a sentence. "- okay, I can't think of anything clever. But you're not a notch."

Her lips quirk in what he thinks might be a bit of a smile. Might. "And you use words for a living?"

"Words aren't enough for you." It leaves his mouth before he thinks about it. "I keep trying. I'm not sure I'll ever get them perfectly right."

It's a sober confession, and one she clearly wasn't expecting. He gulps. Maybe this wasn't -

But her gaze is fixed on his mouth. Heat flares in his body. Her eyes flick back up to his and now he sees her, the woman from last night, the lithe, feral tigress who sucked his tongue down her throat and rode him in the back of a car.

He goes for honesty. "I really want to kiss you."

Her eyebrow quirks upward and it's adorable and hot and seductive all at the same time. "Is that all you want?"

"Well. No." He wants naked. "But it would be a very good place to start."


	6. Chapter 6

She tastes like chocolate.

Her mouth is softer than he remembers, none of the savage, angry energy of last night. But it's still pure Kate Beckett, hot and firm and demanding. It's a dizzying, intoxicating blend of the sexy dangerous creature from last night and the adorable, wide-eyed young woman from dinner tonight. Her mouth opens under his and he sucks at her bottom lip, stroking it with his tongue, groaning when she rakes her fingernails over his scalp. Mmm.

She tugs him back with her until they land on her couch, a little ungracefully. And suddenly she's in his lap again, straddling his hips, sucking on his tongue as she works at the buttons of his shirt. She's nipping at his mouth and sliding her hands under his shirt and rolling against his quickly-growing erection and it's total sensory overload. His hips are already jerking into hers involuntarily. His body is one hundred percent ready, but no. Not like this. It has to be right. This isn't just some quick fuck on a couch.

"Bedroom?" he mumbles into her mouth, half-muffled but she somehow understands.

"On the right."

He manages to push off the couch, and she wraps her legs around his waist, sucking on his neck as he maneuvers them across the room and down the narrow hall. He's trying to concentrate, he really is. But it's unfamiliar geography, which is bad enough, and between the long, long legs clamped around his hips and the persistent mouth biting at his ear, he ends up running into the wall several feet before he gets to the bedroom.

It slams her body against his, pressing her into him hard enough to make them both groan, and she arches her back with a breathy gasp that sends an arrow of heat between his legs.

" _Castle,"_ she murmurs. "Bedroom. _Now_."

"If you'd stop _biting_ -"

She doesn't, of course; she bites his jaw as he finally manages to steer them into the bedroom. His elbow clips the doorframe and he hisses. Her breathy laugh floats over his skin. "Poor _baby_."

He swipes his tongue over her lower lip. "Kiss it and make it better?"

"If you'd ever get me to bed -"

He cuts her off, growling as he kisses her hard. He can't see, but he finally feels his knees hit her bed and he manages to set her down gently, her mouth coming away from his with an audible pop. Wow. That was some suction.

He pulls back to tug off his shirt, and Kate catches his belt, slipping her slim fingers between the leather and his jeans. She unbuckles it easily, sliding it off, and slowly palms his crotch, squeezing lightly. _Ohhhhhhhh._

He peels her shirt off between kisses and climbs onto the bed with her. It's a blur then, wrestling and stealing kisses and tugging clothes and fingers pressing into bare skin. And then she's naked, slim and pale and gorgeous, lying beneath him and looking up at him with those wide eyes. She's already panting, her chest heaving, her face flushed, and when she bites her lip he can't stop himself from leaning in and capturing her mouth, soothing that abused skin with his tongue. She lets out a soft noise, her fingers twined in his hair as his hips sink into hers.

" _Castle_ ," she gasps into his mouth. "Castle -"

When he slides his hand between her legs, finds her wet, she chokes out his name, her eyes getting hazy. He's already painfully hard but he wants it to be different; last night was all anger and desperation and hot adrenaline. This is about making her forget her own name.

He tugs lightly at her left nipple, swirling his tongue over her right one, before kissing his way down her chest, the flat plane of her stomach, into the vee of her legs. She knows what he's going to do, and he can see her hands fist tightly in her sheets.

When he puts his mouth on her, her whole body seizes up, bucking against him, and he has to press her hips into the mattress to hold her still. She writhes under his tongue, a long string of _oh fuck Castle oh fuck_ escaping her lips. He can feel her tugging at his hair, her body getting more and more taut, and when he sucks on her clit, she comes apart, her back arching, her voice breaking on a long moan.

She's lying back, dazed, when he crawls back up, grinning. "Doing okay there?"

"Mmm. Better than okay." She takes a long breath, her eyelashes fluttering. And without warning, she snakes a hand over his thigh, closing her hot fingers around him. "Seems like you are, too."

She squeezes him gently and he bucks into her palm, groaning. She kisses him, teasing. "Seems like you're _happy_ to be here, Mr. Castle."

He steals the words off her lips, nestling between her thighs, tugging her hand away before she goes too far and this ends way too soon.

He finally, finally pushes inside her, and he almost loses it right there at the perfect tight pressure, the involuntary flex of her delicate inner muscles stretching around him. He grits his teeth, trying to control his body, the powerful urge to just thrust and thrust, harder and harder. She's whimpering, a long keening noise escaping her throat, and her hips twist into his, her heel sliding up the back of his leg.

He pins her wrists to the mattress alongside her head and locks eyes with her as he moves, slow and deliberate, watching as her mouth opens in a soundless moan when he hits just the right angle. He rolls into her again and again and _again_ , watching her eyes roll back as she gasps out something that sounds suspiciously like begging.

She finally breaks apart, clenching around him with a high-pitched moan, and he can't stop himself, thrusting into her _hard_ and he comes in a hot, spurting rush until his whole body is drained and exhausted and _done_.


	7. Chapter 7

It's a long moment as he just collapses onto her, draped heavily over the long, smooth, sweaty line of her body. Her ribs press into his with the erratic rhythm of her breathing, and it can't be comfortable for her but he just can't move.

He finally manages to roll off her and flops gracelessly onto the sheets, still breathing hard. That - was -

Mmm.

"You're loud in bed," he murmurs. "I like it."

Kate huffs. "Oh, like you're quiet."

"I didn't hear you complaining," he grins. "Pretty sure it was more _please Castle please_ \- "

She slaps him in the shoulder, but she's smiling. He's in her bed and she's naked and sweaty from the sex they just had and she's _smiling_ at him. She's spent most of their time together looking like she wanted to shoot him between the eyes. This is definitely an improvement. As hot as she is when she's glaring, she's hotter naked.

"You know, I have this recurring fantasy of this thing we could do on your desk at the precinct -"

She slaps her hand over his mouth before he can finish, rounding on him with a sudden intensity that's, well, still hot. "Absolutely not. Not ever. Stop thinking about it."

"Are you _sure?"_

She twists his ear sharply and he yelps.

"Yes. I'm sure."

She lets his ear go and he pouts, rubbing it dramatically. "Vicious woman. I feel hurt."

"You'll get over it,"she murmurs. "Your prodigious ego can heal itself."

Doubt suddenly cools the warmth in his veins. And - she needs to realize -

"You know I'm not really an asshole, right?"

He tries to pass it off as a joke but it doesn't come out as breezy as he was going for. It couldn't. Not when he's in her bed and genuinely afraid she might never let him back in it.

But she's Kate Beckett. She hears the sudden change in his voice. She props herself up on one elbow, watching him quizzically. "You okay?"

He doesn't know how exactly to explain that since she just threw him into a car and fucked him the first time, he's got the persistent fear that maybe this doesn't mean anything to her. That he's alone in this unfamiliar landscape that's starting to look more and more like something serious.

"I don't want you to hate me," he says.

Her mouth twists in a little sideways smile. "I don't hate you."

"You glare at me a lot."

"You do stupid things." She pokes him in the chest. "You annoy me."

 _Most of my claims are on the large side_. He cringes. "Yeah. Sorry."

"I wouldn't have slept with you if I hated you, Castle."

It's a long way from "not hate" to the uncomfortably powerful knot in his chest, but it's better than nothing.

She dissolves his mire of tangled thoughts, leaning in to kiss him briefly before settling back down on her pillow. "You're thinking too loud."

She falls silent, her eyes flickering shut, and he thinks she's falling asleep. Her lashes are dark against her pale skin, an elegant sweep over her high cheekbones, and he's struck for the hundredth time by her total unawareness of her own beauty.

He runs his hand gently over her soft hair. She's so -

"Castle. Stop it. I'm not a cat."

"You sure about that?" He taps her nose, ignoring the glare she shoots him. "Because I _did_ just make you purr."

That earns him a strenuous eye-roll, and as he leans over to cover her body with his and plaster her face with kisses, she swats his face. "Stop it. That was _terrib_ \- mmmff."

Kissing her, it turns out, is the best possible way to shut her up.

He has a feeling this partnership is going to be a lot more fun in the future.

* * *

FIN


End file.
